


Pages Four through Thirteen

by HollyeLeigh



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, F/M, Mentions of Smut, Smut adjacent, accidental email sending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:00:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22456114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollyeLeigh/pseuds/HollyeLeigh
Summary: Based on the prompt: Oh, no! I just sent my professor a link to smut instead of sending it to my friend!When Ruby rushed into their Literary Arts class that morning, Emma was expecting for her to dish on what she thought about the smut piece Emma had sent her to look over the day before. She was not expecting to find out that Ruby had already sent the corrected piece back... to the wrong email recipient.
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Comments: 37
Kudos: 214





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Itrustyoutokillme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itrustyoutokillme/gifts).



> Thanks to xemmaloveskillianx for sending me this prompt! Also a big shout out to kmomof4 and shardminds for looking this over me. This is dedicated to my person in honor of her birthday. Love you, lady!

* * *

“Oh, my God, Emma. I am so, so sorry,” Ruby exclaimed as she rushed in to take her seat in the front row of the lecture hall next to Emma.

“Sorry for what?” It was a rare thing for Ruby Lucas to ever be sorry about anything, so the look of distress on her face was a tad concerning.

“You know that… _thing_ you sent me to look over?”

“Yeah… Oh, Ruby,” Emma waved off with a small blush blooming at her cheeks. “Don’t worry about hurting my feelings. If you hated it, you can just say so.”

“No, I loved it!” Ruby assured her. “The part where she hides under his desk so they don’t get caught together in his office, then proceeds to suck him off while he meets with the dean is so deliciously naughty. Oh! And then when he pulls her out from under the desk and bends her over it, yanking down her panties from under her skirt before he gives her a good pounding in retaliation,” Ruby paused to fan herself, “So. Hot. I loved it so much I practically stayed up all night looking it over for you, and sent you my thoughts and corrections before I went to bed.”

Emma’s brows pinched together and she pulled out her phone. “Really? I don’t remember seeing an email from you when I got up this morning.” She looked again. Sure enough, no email.

“That’s because I didn’t send it to you. I realized on the way to class that I sent it to… someone else.”

_Oh, God._

“Ruby,” Emma said in a tone of pure death. “Who did you send my highly explicit, smut fic to?”

The answer was barely audible, but the echo of it screamed in Emma’s ears. “Professor Jones.”

“Good morning, everyone!” Professor Jones called out as he entered the hall, his eyes sweeping over the masses until they landed on Emma. A smirk and brow raised in tandem and an amused glint twinkled in his stupidly too blue eyes. “I hope we are all in pleasant spirits today. Ready to satisfy the _desires_ of our minds in scholarly pursuit.”

The way he drawled out the word _desires_ as his gaze lingered on her left no question in Emma’s mind. Professor Jones had read her story. Her smut filled, explicit fantasy that spelled out in exquisite detail all the things she’d like to do to her hot professor (and have him do to her). Even though the characters in her story bore different names, there was no denying she’d based them off herself and Jones.

Something a Literary Arts professor was bound to pick up on.

Emma’s cheeks flushed and prickles of mortification skittered over her skin. Picking up her pen, she pretended to take notes as Professor Jones began his lecture, all the while scrawling death threats to Ruby in the margins of her paper.

When the end of class came, Emma warred with herself on whether or not to apologize to him for Ruby’s error. She _really_ didn’t want to face him, didn’t want to admit the story he’d been sent had actually been written by her, but knew she’d have to answer for it at some point.

Not today, though, apparently. Before she could gather her courage, Jones collected his things and exited the room back towards his office. _Next class_ , she told herself. I’ll talk to him after the next class. Or maybe she’d email him… nope. No more emails.

Emma never did go talk with Jones. Over the course of that final week of class she adopted the _ignore it and it’ll go away_ philosophy. And it was working… mostly. Much to her surprise, Professor Jones hadn’t made any attempts to bring up the issue either. She’d expected some sort of response, an admonishment on the inappropriateness of such an email being sent to him, a jovial assurance that he knew it was an accident and no more needed to be said. Something. But other than the occasional twitch at his lips or furtive glance flicked her way whenever something was said in class that could be taken as a double entendre referencing her fic, the man hadn’t said a word to her about it.

Until the day of the final.

“Miss Swan,” Professor Jones called out as he finished gathering the class’ tests. “Would you be good enough to stop by my office later?”

“Uh… sure,” Emma said in startled reply.

“End of my office hours work for you?”

“Yeah. I’ll um… I’ll see you then.”

It was a good thing Emma had no other finals that day. She’d never have been able to concentrate on passing them, distracted as she was by what Professor Jones wanted to see her about. Not that she had to guess. It had to be about the email, about the fic, about what the fic exposed, and it exposed _a lot_.

By the time she arrived at his office, her palms were slick from nerves and the minimal contents of her stomach were ready to mutiny. His door was partially opened, so she knocked twice before edging it open further.

“Ah! Miss Swan. Please, come in and have a seat.” He gestured to the cozy looking leather chair he had positioned in front of his desk. The chair she definitely had _not_ (she totally had) written about in her fic when she… er, her female character had lounged naked in it whilst her hot, British professor knelt before her with his head buried between her legs, making her come with his wicked tongue again and again.

Yeah. That chair.

“Um, what did you want to see me about, Professor Jones?” Emma asked while shifting uncomfortably, causing the leather beneath her to squeak and her cheeks to grow hot.

“Please. The semester is over. Call me Killian.”

Emma’s pulse ratcheted up at the offer. How many times had she evoked his given name in private over the course of the semester? _Not the time, Emma!_

 _Killian_ cleared his throat and picked up a packet of papers from his desk. “Before we get to the matter for which I asked you here, I wanted to show you this.”

Reaching across the desk, she took the proffered papers and realized they were her final; already graded with a large _A_ denoted in red at the top of the page.

“I’ve already submitted your grade to the dean.”

“Um… thanks?”

Killian smiled and let out a small exhale of amusement before standing and making his way around his desk. Leaning back against its surface, he clasped his fingers together and crossed his ankles.

“I asked you to come to my office, because there is something I’ve been wanting to ask you all semester. I wanted to give you that,” he indicated to her final, “so you’d be assured that your answer to my question would in no way affect your grade in my class.”

Emma nervously wet her lips and stood to place her final back on her desk next to Killian’s hip. “What did you want to ask me?”

She’d left a small bit of distance between them but the tension within was drawing taut, pulling at her to step even closer.

Killian unclasped his hands and for a moment Emma thought he meant to reach out and touch her. Instead, he placed them on the desk, anchoring himself in place. “Now that I am no longer your professor, I was hoping you might like to have dinner with me.”

“You want to have dinner with me?” she responded breathlessly.

Where had all the air gone?

“I do.” A mischievous smirk pulled at Killian’s lip and he stepped forward, closing the gap between them and settling his hands on her hips. His tone deepened with his next words, sending a sultry feeling of silk rippling over Emma’s skin. “Unless, of course, you’d rather just skip ahead to pages four through thirteen in that delightful bit of sin Miss Lucas _accidentally_ sent me a week ago.”

“Please,” Emma scoffed, hoping to detract him from how much she’d very much like to reenact her fic with him there in his office. “You couldn’t handle it.”

“Based on what I read, you may very well be right,” A devilishly handsome grin spread over his face and his brows swaggered as he replied, “But I love a challenge.”

They got through page eight before leaving his office.


	2. Chapter 2

“But I love a challenge.”

Killian’s lips crashed against hers, desperate sounds emitting from them both as their tongues danced and their teeth nipped the tender flesh of the other’s lips.

“Since receiving that email and reading through the pages you wrote, you’ve no idea the torment I’ve gone through sitting in here at my desk, imagining you all wonderfully naked and spread wide for me in that infernal chair,” Killian confessed.

Emma suddenly pulled out of his embrace, taking several steps backward towards his office door. “Swan?” Killian exhaled with a note of pleading in his tone and distraught gaze. “Please, don’t go. If I’ve said something to offend you, I apol--”

“You haven’t offended me,” Emma replied, turning the lock on the handle to ensure they wouldn’t be disturbed. Killian’s eyes displayed relief before they widened in response to her lifting her shirt from her body. She raised a hand to stay his approach when he began to move away from his desk then reached around behind to unclasp her bra, letting it slip off her shoulders and fall to the floor. Sauntering forward, she slowly lowered the side zip of her skirt and let gravity shed it for her. “I thought you might like to do a bit more than imagine it this time.” Before she stepped out of the pooling fabric at her feet, she shimmied her panties down her legs and kicked them off to the side.

Killian’s hands were clenched at his sides, his arousal evident from the bulge in the front of his jeans. Darkened, predatory eyes watched her every move as she lowered herself into the leather chair, reclining back so she could place her heels on the edge of the cushion before spreading her knees and opening herself to his hungry gaze.

Greedily, Killian’s tongue swept over his lips as he sank down onto his knees in front of the chair. “Page four it is then,” he murmured seductively, skimming his hands up her calves then back down the inside of her thighs.

Looming over her, his mouth went straight for her breasts while his hand met the damp, heated flesh of her sex, causing Emma to arch off the chair as a wanton sigh left her lips.

“Already so wet for me,” Killian murmured into her skin with her nipple gently gripped between his teeth. His tongue teased the pebbled bud while his fingers slid through her folds, fully coating themselves in the evidence of her desire before sinking into her core.

“Sweet Jesus,” Emma breathed out, trying to stay mindful of the still occupied offices surrounding them.

“Killian will do, love,” he teased, trailing his tongue down her body and giving it a lazy swirl around her belly button. Sparks skittered across her skin as his fingers continued to thrust into her, the heel of his hand rocking against her mound, applying exquisite pressure to her clit. Her hips bucked when she felt the tip of his nose skim across the inside of her thigh, his inhale and the appreciative noise he made after breathing in her scent was positively indecent.

“Let’s see if you taste as good as you smell.”

Emma whimpered at the loss of his fingers then gasped when his rough tongue licked a long, wide swath through her center. Her hand shot down and grabbed a fistful of his hair. Whether the moan vibrating against her clit was from his approval of her taste or the endorsement of her action, Emma couldn’t say. Nor did she care.

More sentences than Emma had cared to count had been written by her about the man’s tongue. She’d been transfixed by it all semester. The way it slipped over his lips, wetting them before he moved on to his next point in the lecture, or how he would press it against the back of his teeth when he was being cheeky with the class. Emma had once kept a tally of the number of times she’d caught a glimpse of it during class; slow swipes over his lower lip, quick flicks of it against the sticking corners of his mouth, obscene displays of it running over his teeth, or poking out when he waggled his brows. All of those occurrences that day had prompted her to write the salacious scene he was currently bringing to life, but her words had not been able to do its soft flutters and demanding flicks justice.

Silent gasps, groans, and the filthy sound of his mouth lapping up every bit of essence he was coaxing from her body filled the room. So engrossed in the hot and dirty atmosphere she was losing herself to, Emma almost didn’t register the sound of his zipper as Killian worked to free himself from his jeans. He grunted and let out a soft sigh, wrapping his hand around his length and pumping it in time with the way his tongue now thrusted at her entrance. Gods, did she wish she had longer arms. Long enough to reach down and take hold of him, to feel the heat of his flesh and the hardness of his cock. The thought sent a spasm of pleasure through her, forcing her trembling thighs to clamp against Killian’s head as she rocked her core against his mouth.

Hot breaths panted against her, and his mouth was replaced by the hand not otherwise occupied with gratifying himself. Pumping them both with equal fervor, Killian’s intent expression of pained bliss was one Emma could barely focus on before her orgasm began to crest within her. As if sensing her impending release, Killian buried his head between her thighs once more and teased her clit, sucking it between his teeth and making her come harder than she ever remembered coming before.

His hand clamped down over her mouth, silencing her cries while his other hand continued to draw out her pleasure. Once assured her utterances had been exhausted, Killian removed his hand from her mouth and settled it at her hip. Emma’s chest heaved as she tried to bring her breathing back under control, one last groan escaping her when he slipped his fingers from her. A groan that was promptly echoed back to her when that hand, slick from her release, ran itself languidly up and down his rock hard erection.

“Trade me,” Emma suggested, setting her feet back on the floor so she could stand - somewhat tenuously - and pushing Killian into the chair.

His hooded, desire darkened gaze watched her as she sank to her knees before him, his hand still lazily stroking his cock. It was Emma’s tongue that now made its appearance, gliding along her lower lip before flicking out to tease the underside of his tip. Killian’s head fell back and he relinquished his hold to her grip, clenching the ends of the arm rests when she swirled around his head and drew him into her mouth.

“Oh, Emma,” he groaned, his breaths coming in staccatoed bursts as her mouth and hand worked in tandem along his length. “Oh, fuck!” he grit out through clenched teeth when she took him further down her throat, his hand finding the back of her head when the coarse hair against his pelvis tickled her nose.

Emma kept her movements small, ensuring the majority of him remained within the confines of her mouth as she bobbed her head slightly, light hums vibrating against her lips that she knew would travel through his length and straight to his groin. Desperate utterances fell from Killian’s lips and the muscles in his thighs twitched under the feathery touch of her fingers skimming over his jean clad legs. She really should have yanked them off when she’d had the chance.

“Fuck, Emma. I’m close,” he warned her, removing his hand so she could pull away if she chose to.

Flicking her gaze up to his, she silently imparted her intention to remain right where she was. Hollowing her cheeks, she doubled her efforts until his hips jerked and he spilled himself down her throat in hot spurts she’d be tasting on her tongue for hours. His salty brine mixed with the raw, gravelled declarations of his contented fulfillment sent a pulse of pure want straight to her core. When she released him, licking any remaining essence from her lips, he wasted no time in pulling her onto his lap so he could thoroughly plunder her mouth with his own.

After several frantic moments he grudgingly broke off the kiss, resting his forehead against hers while they both struggled to gain control over their breathing.

“If you don’t go and get ready for dinner, we may not have the chance to do so before making it to page thirteen,” Killian teased, brushing the tip of his nose against hers.

“You still want to have dinner with me?”

“Of course,” Killian pulled back, his brows drawn together with a look of bewilderment beset upon them. “Did you think my offer was simply a line in order to take advantage of you?”

“No! No, of course not. I just…” Emma shook her head and reached around to card her fingers through the back of his hair, her gaze falling to his chest. “I don’t know what I thought. I’m sorry.”

“Love, let me make my intentions perfectly clear.” Bringing his hand up, he placed it under her chin and prompted her to look up at him once more. Earnestly, he stated, “I intend to take you out for a nice meal, then, if you’ll allow, back to my place for... _dessert_. In the morning, I plan to bring you breakfast in bed before taking you on every available surface of my apartment.”

Emma swallowed past the tight knot of lust forming in her throat. “You seem to have given this some thought,” she replied breathlessly.

“Oh, you’ve no idea,” he crooned wickedly, with an equally devilish grin. “But if you’d like, I can email you _my_ doc of delightfully sinful pages detailing those thoughts.”


End file.
